


Save Me

by crochetaway



Series: Drabbles and OneShots [28]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gemma Troy Quotes, Winter Romance, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 10:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12862989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: He saved her. She saved him. They saved each other. Written for Quill & Parchments 2017 Holiday Fest.





	Save Me

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: I was inspired by this Gemma Troy quote in the album: “You are the summer to my winter heart”. So I googled her and found more quotes and wow, I don’t know if she knows about Dramione, but she sure seems to write about them. Haha. So this is littered with her quotes. I had to stop looking at them eventually. There were so many that could apply.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Grammarly and the Hemingway App were my beta's. So any mistakes are mine.**

 "Y _ou are the summer_

_to my winter heart”_

_\- Gemma Troy_

Draco watched as she crossed the snow to Hagrid’s hut. His brow furrowed as he envisioned sitting in there with her, eating rock cakes and drinking tea with a half-breed half-giant. He imagined the shack was warm, much warmer than the dungeons Draco and all the Slytherins lived in. She looked bright as she crossed the freshly fallen snow, her bushy brown hair and maroon and gold Gryffindor scarf bouncing behind her as she followed the Demented Duo down the path. He turned away from the window, berating himself. He had to stop this obsession over her. She wasn’t any better than the half-breed she was going to visit. She was an ugly, filthy Mudblood. Except she wasn’t ugly. Not to Draco’s eyes. She hadn’t been ugly in years. And here it was, sixth year and Draco had an impossible task to complete. He looked back out the window, watching her laugh with her friends.

He savored the moments he was able to view her unencumbered by the mask he wore. Especially this year. He knew the likelihood of him surviving this task was slim. He just wanted his mother to survive. His father could go hang, but his mother wasn’t a Death Eater. She wasn’t cold, and hard, and cruel like his father and his brethren. Draco scratched at the Mark burned into his left forearm. It always itched, as if the Dark Lord was picking at it, picking at him, reminding him of his duty.

But the few moments he spared looking at Granger, they warmed his heart. They were what he seemed to live for these days. She was so full of life, like the first sign of spring after a long, brutal winter. Like the first bloom of a snowdrop. He sighed as he watched her enter the gamekeeper’s hut. The door banged closed behind her and snow that had been clinging to the roof, sloughed off onto the path. Draco turned from the window and continued his trek to the Room of Hidden Things. He had work to do.

 

* * *

 

_“Your silence is deadly_

_it brings me to my knees_

_with my heart in my hands_

_I close my eyes_

_and plead_

_for you to come_

_and save me”_

_\- Gemma Troy_

Draco couldn’t bring himself to raise his head as he was led into the courtroom. The war was over and won. He’d been living the last few months in Azkaban as the trials for all the Death Eaters and sympathizers were held. His father had been given the Kiss as his sentence. Draco hadn’t even had a chance to see him before he was paraded back through the halls of Azkaban, a mere zombie of himself. A husk of who he used to be. Draco cared, how could he not? It was his father after all. But he also thought it might be for the best. Not the  Kiss, certainly not that, never that. The Kiss was horrific. But victims of the Kiss didn’t live long, Draco expected the news of his father’s passing any day now. And that was for the best. This new world, one without a Dark Lord was not one Lucius Malfoy would want to live in. Draco knew that.

When he was chained to the chair in the center of the courtroom, he looked around. The Wizengamot was in full session, their maroon robes bright in the dark courtroom. He glanced behind him to the gallery; it was also full. But she was there.

She was there, staring down at him. He couldn’t read her face, couldn’t see what emotions she was feeling. He hoped… he wished… Her eyes never left his. But Draco turned when the Chief Warlock banged his gavel, dropping her gaze. He crushed his hopes and wishes down. The most he could hope for was a small sentence in Azkaban. But he knew he was in danger of receiving the Kiss. He’d orchestrated Dumbledore’s death after all. One of the charges against him was conspiracy to commit murder.

His trial began. It lasted the whole day and adjourned for additional testimony the following day. Thus far, it was all bad news. Word and deeds of his past haunted his ears as he spent the night in the cells at the Ministry. At least he wasn’t transferred back to the barren rock of Azkaban.

The following day’s testimony shocked him. Potter spoke on his behalf. Of how he was a misguided kid. Draco snorted. Misguided? Delusional perhaps. Weasley, too, spoke on his behalf. Of how he helped them escape Malfoy Manor. Draco hung his head, it was either that or search her out. Watching her be tortured had been the worst moment of his life. Worse than the hug the Dark Lord gave him during the final battle, worse than being assigned the task of killing Dumbledore, worse than finding out his godfather had been killed, worse than knowing his father had been Kissed. He still had nightmares about her writhing on the floor of his childhood home. The same floor he had played on as a child, putting together puzzles, and racing stuffed dragons across.

And then she took the stand. She spoke in a clear, strong voice. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She never once looked at either solicitor, any member of the Wizengamot, or the Chief Warlock. She only had eyes for him.

“He saved me,” she said simply. “I was going to die. Lestrange and Greyback were going to kill me. And he saved me.”

Draco stopped breathing.

“So, I’m here, asking you to save him.”

* * *

_“She tiptoed around his feelings_

_While being swept away by hers”_

_\- Gemma Troy_

Draco still couldn’t believe he was back at Hogwarts. Nor, could he believe that it was all due to her. To Granger. She’d saved him. His sentence had been five years probation, and he had to finish his last year at Hogwarts; where he was monitored closely by the staff. Draco didn’t even care about the monitoring. He was thankful that his future was alive and well.

He was more thankful that she was here. He’d thanked her, sincerely, several times, both in writing and in person. The last time, she’d blushed, and said not to mention it again. So he didn’t. But it didn’t stop him from watching her. Neither Potter nor Weasley was back this year. She was alone. And so much easier for him to observe. Most of their class had come back. The ones who weren’t dead, anyway. So the seventh year was full, as it had been combined with the year below them. Draco hated that he suddenly shared a dorm with three people he didn’t know well. The reminder of Crabbe’s empty bed was worse.

He’d taken to hiding in the Library. As a seventh year, the Restricted Section was open for his use. At the very back of the library, there was a rose window placed high on the wall and underneath a worn, leather, brown, beaten down couch paired with a low table. He’d claimed it for his own. Nobody disturbed him, and it allowed him all the time he needed to think. And he did think. Mostly about Granger.

“Can I sit?” she’d asked one day, near Halloween.

Draco jerked up from his reverie and stared at her. For a moment he couldn’t think, he was in awe of her beauty. The window above him, shone brightly on her hair, bouncing gleaming sunbeams through it, making it almost look alive. She frowned, and he realized she’d asked to join him.

“Yes, please,” Draco replied with a small smile.

He moved to the side so that she could sit next to him. When she did, her perfume tickled his nose, citrus and clean. He breathed deeply.

“You watch me, you know?” Granger said.

“I know,” he whispered.

* * *

_"Let’s begin again_

_that is always_

_the best part”_

_\- Gemma Troy_

They had their first disagreement in December. They’d been paired on an assignment for Arithmancy and Draco was sure that his formula was correct. It worked every time he ran it. Except when Granger ran it during the full moon, and it broke, giving them an incorrect answer. They didn’t speak for a week.

“Malfoy,” she said exasperatedly after tracking him down in the library.

“Draco,” he insisted quietly.

“Draco, we have to finish the project,” Granger pleaded with him.

Draco sighed, he knew they did. He just hated being wrong. He had been so wrong for so long, that now, he felt he’d found his guiding light, his guiding star. And yet, he couldn’t get over his pride to admit when she was right in something as silly as an Arithmancy project.

“I won’t even brag that I’m right anymore,” she coaxed.

He smirked and nodded.

“Start over?” he asked.

She smiled and sat next to him to go over the formula she had created.

* * *

_“My heart begins_

_at your fingertips”_

_\- Gemma Troy_

He’d asked her on their first date in February. They’d gone to Hogsmeade together. They avoided the Three Broomsticks and Madam Puddifoot’s by having a picnic filled with warming charms and blankets near the Shrieking Shack. He’d walked her to the Gryffindor common room just before curfew that night. She’d pulled him aside before they reached the portrait, into a small alcove, hidden behind a tapestry.

“What?” Draco asked as she lit the torch on the wall behind him.

She smiled as she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. He closed his eyes as he dipped his head down and met her lips with his own. Their first kiss was sweet, soft, romantic. And Draco couldn’t believe she was the one to initiate it. He’d planned on a kiss on the cheek at the portrait to her common room. And he’d gotten a full-blown snog in a hidden alcove. She opened her mouth to him and slipped her tongue inside his. He groaned and tightened his hold on her hips, stepping closer to her as their tongues danced for dominance.

He walked back to his own common room that night, not seeing or hearing anything. Only remembering the feel of her lips on his. Of her taste on his tongue. He’d never been in love before, and he wondered if that’s what this feeling was.

* * *

 " _If only you knew_

_what your touch does to me_

_your hands_

_would never leave my body”_

_\- Gemma Troy_

Draco proposed in December two years later. They were both working long days at the Ministry; helping the society, they watched crumble as children, rebuild itself with their hands as adults. He took her on a long walk, along a wooded path. Snow fell gently around them as he took to one knee and asked her for her hand.

She grinned and didn’t cry as he had feared. She whispered yes, then shouted it. He slipped the ring on her finger, a ring he had designed uniquely for her. He’d etched the protection runes into the goblin-wrought silver himself. He felt his pride and love swell for this woman as the ring settled around her finger. She beamed down at him and kissed him on the mouth, wrapping her arms around him.

He pulled her to him and soon they were both lying in the snow, snogging like the teenagers they had been. She cast a warming charm, and he transfigured his cloak into a blanket below them. He took her beneath the snow and the stars. Her touch like fire on his icy skin and she shouted yes over and over again. Telling the world how she felt about him.

* * *

_“If I build a future with you_

_you must promise_

_to help me_

_tear down the past”_

_\- Gemma Troy_

They married a year later, on New Year's Eve. A winter wedding, like their winter romance. He didn’t cry as she walked toward him, but grinned like a fool. Potter gave her away, and he shook hands with the man he had come to see as a friend. The Minister for Magic married them, as a wedding gift to her. The promised to have and hold, to love and cherish, to honor and keep each other. In sickness and health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer. They vowed fidelity and faithfulness.

Draco had never imagined his life turning out the way it did when he had begun to watch her back in his sixth year. He thought she was a passing fancy, a bit of fluff to get him through a difficult time. She turned into the most important person in his life. The person he wanted to build a future with, the person he wanted to erase the past with, the person he would love more than anyone else in his life. The person he would do anything for.

When the Minister pronounced them husband and wife, he directed them to kiss. Draco took her in his arms, and as his lips touched hers, snow began to fall. As he moved his lips over hers and she begged for entrance with her tongue, the first flakes drifted lazily down and caught in their hair.


End file.
